17 34 17
by SebasuchansKitten
Summary: An arranged marriage, a rich yet controlling fiancé, a loving but poor merchant, and a young man who must fight against his fate. (AU/OOC SebastianxCiel)
1. Diary Entry 210

** Time for a new story ^-^**

** The accuracy of this story will be a little off, especially regarding Ciel's gender.**

** Arranged marriages were strictly male and female, since liking someone of the same sex was completely out of the question.**

** I hate fics that make Ciel a female, though, so the male and female rule had to be altered to fit my liking. As for the history and the time date for this story, I'm not an expert so bear with me.**

** Okay enough blabbing. Enjoy kitlets ^-^**

* * *

_** Edgar's Promise**_

_Null and void in frozen snow,_

_Lies our land so far below_

_Beneath the bodies at our feet,_

_Lies our kingdom, bittersweet_

_The tears of children are meaningless,_

_The mother is a meager grieving mess_

_And underneath that faithful sun,_

_Lies a lonely soldiers gun_

_Amongst the leaves and furrowed branches,_

_There's something more than poor men's ranches_

_For beyond the graves,_

_Beyond the lances,_

_A passionate couple dreamily dances_

_The place I once knew_

_I know no more_

_Yet my heart still travels with unwavering lore_

_Wherever I am,_

_Night or day,_

_I still see the fleur-de-lis sway_

_**-S. Kitten**_

* * *

Rachel sighed as she delicately set her tea cup down, a solemn frown carved in her lips.

"I fear the fate of France, as well. Vincent predicts a war is soon to come."

"I believe Vincent is correct," Mademoiselle Red said sadly. "This crisis won't lighten a smidge."

Ciel sat quietly with his hands folded in his lap, keeping his posture proper and formal.

"Which is why Ciel will have to be our _ange," _Rachel stated, not even bothering to give her son a glance. "He'll be marrying a wealthy noble soon, you know."

"Is that right?" Mademoiselle Red quizzed, taking a small sip out of her tea cup. "How did you ever find a stable suitor?"

"It was simple, really," Rachel smiled. "Ciel is a delicate and fragile young man, not to mention his beautiful feminine features. All I had to do was…"

Ciel clenched his fists, wrinkling the cloth that was sprawled across his lap. Everyday he was forced to listen to his mother gossip about him as if he weren't even there. Everyday he had to sit through the petty insults and listen to the simple conversations of the elders that incarcerated his freedom, and everyday his protocol weakened.

Ciel was, as Vincent called it, an 'unlucky one' since birth. It had only taken a few years into Ciel's youth for everyone to realize that he was an unusual child.

And by unusual they implied his abnormally petite size.

Ciel was a frail boy, with tiny, thin legs and an anomalous body shape. So anomalous, in fact, that he highly resembled a woman, not to mention his soft eyes, ravishing hair and impeccable skin, all of which emphasized femininity.

Since Ciel was considered incompetent and unsuitable to take Marquis of Phantomhive's place, he was assumed to be their daughter, and was expected to marry another noble.

Which, in his case, was an unspecified duke originating from Brittany.

"When will he meet his fiancé, then?"

Ciel blinked and he shifted his eyes toward his mother, whom was devoting her full attention to Mademoiselle Red.

"I'm not certain when he'll be making the journey. Surely it isn't safe to travel with the peasants revolting."

_ Peasants, _Ciel thought pensively. _Do they have guidelines? Someone that tells them how to live?_

"Please excuse me, Mother," Ciel said abruptly, standing and pushing in his chair. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Mademoiselle Red."

"It's _Madame _Red, Ciel," his aunt corrected viciously. "Learn how to speak to your elders."

"Forgive me," Ciel gave a small bow before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

* * *

"Toss it over here, Sebastian!"

Sebastian smiled mischievously. "Alright, but I won't go easy on you this time."

The little boy giggled and flailed his arms. "I'm not scared of you! Gimme your best shot!"

Sebastian's grin widened and he pitched the tomato with vigor, excited to see if the boy could handle the challenge.

"Whoa!" The boy cried, and instead of catching the projectile he ducked, making the ripe fruit hit the ground with a _splat._

"Michaelis!" A deep voice boomed, and both the boy and the man frowned.

"Michaelis! Get over here!"

"Right away, Sir," Sebastian called back nervously, and he trudged over to the small child.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble, Sebastian," the boy whimpered, and Sebastian gave him a meek smile, patting him on the back reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it, Luka. Come back tomorrow and we can play some more."

"Michaelis!"

"Thanks, Sebastian," Luka smiled and hugged him before running off, leaving the troubled young man alone.

"Michaelis, there you are!"

Sebastian turned to see his boss approaching, his angry expression palpable.

"That's the third tomato you've spoiled this week!"

"I-I'm sorry Midford… I just-"

"That's _Monsieur _Midford to you!" Mr. Midford screamed. "I never would have hired you if I knew you'd be destroying my profit and produce!"

"It won't happen again, Sir," Sebastian promised.

"It better not," Mr. Midford warned. "I gave you this job so you could help your mother out and afford a few pieces of bread, but all you've done is cause me trouble."

"I'm sorry," Sebastian apologized once more. "It will never happen again."

"Alright," Mr. Midford huffed. "You can have your _déjeuner _now. But don't think about taking any more of my produce. I caught you last time and chose not to comment on it."

Sebastian nodded and breathed with relief when he was dismissed.

The young peasant sighed as he slumped down against a tree trunk, relishing the cool shade. He adjusted his brown suspender straps that rested against his loose white shirt before taking a small apple out of his pocket and biting into it zealously.

Sebastian Michaelis, to put it candidly, was an unimportant young man. Being only nineteen, Sebastian had been in the third estate since birth, which meant having to fight for mere pieces of bread that even the birds wouldn't eat.

Alexis Midford, a simple man with a temper shorter than his pinky nail, offered Sebastian a small merchant position at his outdoor market, selling and distributing produce to varieties of people. The starving peasant didn't have a choice if he wanted to eat, so he gladly took the job.

That was nine years ago, and for nine long, tiring years Sebastian worked under Mr. Midford.

The job allowed Sebastian to meet many people, including urchins that starved and begged him for food, one being little Luka.

Sebastian never denied them food and he consistently snuck them vegetables behind Mr. Midford's back. It definitely wasn't a characteristic of the perfect worker, but the smiles on the children's faces made it all worth it.

…And the sneers Sebastian received from nobles made the job absolutely appalling.

Though the indigents loved and appreciated Sebastian more than anyone, the nobles stuck their noses up to the sky, treating him rudely like every other peasant that came their way.

The mere memories of past confrontations made Sebastian grit his teeth in anger.

_ The nobles think they're high and mighty, _he thought bitterly. _But they'll all get overthrown soon. Them and their egotistic king._

Sebastian wasn't thinking out of spite, either. The poor really were getting tired of the nobles and the monarchy deciding whether they could eat or not, and one day they were going to truly show the second and third estates how powerful they really were.

But, until then, Sebastian would simply lay under this tree and enjoy the cool shade until his break was over, munch on his apple and daydream of a better life someplace else.

_ The high and mighty nobles, _Sebastian thought sadly, crossing his legs in order to get more comfortable. _Do they have worries? Someone that actually strikes fear into their spoiled hearts?_

"Michaelis, time to get back to work," Mr. Midford called.

"Yes, Sir," Sebastian obeyed, standing immediately and stretching his aching muscles.

_ Someone that actually strikes fear into their spoiled hearts._

* * *

"Ciel!"

The unsuspecting boy jumped at the sudden call and his aunt chuckled.

"Didn't expect me, did you?"

"You gave me a fright," Ciel admitted, turning to greet the interloper. "How may I be of service, Mademois- erm, pardon, _Madame _Red?"

"Good boy, you're learning," his aunt smiled. "I'm afraid you were a bit quiet at tea today. That's unacceptable, Ciel."

"In your eyes," Ciel muttered under his breath, thankfully too low for his aunt to hear.

"You do remember what you've been taught, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, I remember every one of those stupid lessons!" Ciel blurted. "How could I forget those tiresome hours of learning proper etiquette and how to behave in front of my elders and my soon-to-be husband? I remember them all!"

Madame Red said nothing as she regarded her nephew with wide eyes. Ciel permitted himself to calm down before noticing her stunned appearance.

"Forgive me, Madame," Ciel apologized quietly. "That was out of character."

"Ciel," Madame Red whispered sympathetically, approaching her strained nephew slowly and laying her hand on his shoulder when she was near. "I know it's not fair."

"What ever could you be talking about," Ciel murmured sarcastically. "It's my duty as an 'unlucky one,' is it not? To be morphed and molded into the perfect bride for some wealthy and conceited man? Is that not my duty, Madame Red?"

"It is your duty," Madame Red agreed, daintily running her fingers through Ciel's soft locks. "But it isn't fair for you to have to live like that. You should be preparing to take Marquis of Phantomhive's place, not preparing to become a duchess."

"I haven't a choice," Ciel stated in a grim tone. "Though I do hope that many don't face the same fate."

"There aren't many boys like you out there," Madame Red confirmed, the ghost of a small smile daring to make an appearance. "You're one of a kind."

"Ha," Ciel spat. "One of a kind. One of an _unlucky _kind to be more specific, Madame. An unfortunate and ill-fated kind."

A knock on the door halted Madame Red from commenting and Ciel raised his head.

"Enter."

A small creak sounded and both the boy and his aunt observed a small head pop in.

"What is it, Hannah?" Madame Red asked, obviously annoyed with the intrusion.

"Forgive me, Lord Phantomhive and Madame Red, but Marquise Phantomhive says it's time."

"Oh my, he's early," Madame Red remarked, and Ciel's eyes shifted to his aunt.

"Who is early?"

"Your mother and I were trying to throw you off during tea," Madame Red admitted. "We didn't want to spoil the surprise."

_ "Who _is early?" Ciel demanded, his patience shortening.

"I'll be downstairs," Hannah chirped before quickly disappearing behind the door. Ciel continued to stare at his aunt, waiting for an answer. The crimson-covered woman squeezed her nephews shoulder and grinned.

"Straighten out those wrinkles in your ruffled shirt, Ciel. It's time to meet your fiancé."

* * *

** That's it for the first chapter!**

** So yeah this fic is obviously set in France, and since it's in France there will be more French words being spoken between characters which I will post the definitions to at the end of each chapter. **

** Review, kitlets! ^-^**

** Ange - Angel**

** Monsieur - Mr./Sir**

** Déjeuner - Lunch**


	2. Diary Entry 213

"What did you think of the duke? Is he worth his noble title?"

Ciel superciliously lifted his teacup to his lips, taking gentle sips and swallows. "He's worth a few stares and gawks. He seemed to impress _Mére _and Madame Red."

Alois scoffed and held his hand out, studying his long, perfected nails. "Women will say yes to anything these days. They're desperate to discard us, you know. What did Marquis of Phantomhive say?"

Ciel frowned and lowered his cup. "Marquis finds him apposite."

"Now that's unforeseen," Alois remarked. "He must be a charmer since Marquis wants only what's best for his _fille."_

"I suggest you keep quiet, Alois," Ciel snapped. "I am still his son."

"Come now," Alois said softly, crossing his legs and glancing at his friend. "You know as well as I that we are both expected to be exquisite play-things, appearing as women that want nothing but their husband's happiness."

"I know," Ciel whispered. "As Marquis of Phantomhive has told me, we are the unlucky ones."

"Drivel!" Alois declared. "Drivel, I say!"

Ciel sighed and rubbed his temples. Whenever his forthright friend had one of his outbursts, he knew to stay quiet and avoid an impending conflict.

The two, as Ciel put it, 'unlucky ones,' sat in their woven chairs and enjoyed a nice cup of tea while viewing the exceptionally lovely garden that the Phantomhive's were famous for.

According to protocol and Ciel's current situation, he was expected to behave like a young lady, and one of the behaviors included gossiping. Ciel's friend since childhood, Alois Trancy, happened to be placed in the same situation as himself, which allowed the two to visit each other often.

As stated by Rachel, Ciel needed to have the social interaction that all young lady's experience, so she took it upon herself to invite Alois over to the estate regularly for tea, permitting Ciel to gossip and chatter with the other 'unlucky one' as much as he'd like.

"Speaking of drivel," Ciel began, changing the subject. "How are arrangements with your fiancé going?"

"Quite well," Alois stated, in an unexpectedly surprising tone. "Claude Faustus, Duke of Marche. He's an extremely handsome man, though rather a bore."

"A bore, hm?" Ciel mused, running his finger around the rim of his teacup. "So you actually have a fondness for him?"

"I do," Alois answered honestly. "I couldn't have found a match so perfect. He's fairly romantic, too. 'Day into night, sugar into salt, living to dead and dark blue to gold. No matter the circumstances, I will be there.' That's what he said, Ciel! Those very same words!"

"I see," Ciel said impassively. "I'm glad to hear that the arrangements are carrying on well."

"The wedding is next week," Alois responded in an apprehensive voice. "I'm afraid he may change his mind or the ceremony won't go as planned."

"Listen to you," Ciel remarked, a devious smirk lighting up his face. "You already sound like a restless bride. You'll be the perfect housewife that obeys her husbands' orders."

"Don't talk to me like that!" Alois shouted angrily, standing to his feet. "You're perfectly well aware of the fact that we're expected to behave in such a manner! I'm merely following my directives!"

"You have no pride!" Ciel retorted, standing to his feet, as well. "Look at you! You're so concerned about your fiancé's happiness that you forgot about your own title! We're still _males, _Alois! We deserve a right to forbid this from happening!"

"We have no rights," Alois contradicted sadly. "You know that. No matter how hard we fight nor how much we refuse we have no choice but to listen to everyone's desires except our own."

Ciel sighed despairingly. Alois was right. It didn't matter if they remained stubborn or happily complied, they would have the same fate either way.

He hated that feeling. It was as if his family held his soul in their hands, playing and teasing it like a small child's toy. Then, as soon as newcomers gave them offers on that toy, they sold it away without a second thought, authorizing that newcomer to play and tease it however he pleased.

That was Ciel's life. His _soul. _And it was his family that would sell his soul without a care in the world as soon as they were finished frolicking with it.

"I beg your pardon, Lord Phantomhive, Lord Trancy," Hannah acknowledged quietly, promptly curtsying before shuffling next to Ciel.

"Yes, Hannah, what is it?" Ciel inquired.

"Marquise Phantomhive has announced a visitors arrival."

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Is it the Marquis?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Sir, rather your fiancé."

"It's been two days," Ciel exclaimed angrily. "What reason does he have to show up now?"

"He would like to visit with you," Hannah stated. "His trip from Brittany was extensive and he'd like to become familiar with his bride."

"Don't say that, Hannah," Ciel warned darkly.

"As you wish, Sir. I am only saying what has been expected of me."

"I know, I know," Ciel forgave. "It's not your fault. Send him out here when he's ready."

"Yes, Sir," Hannah gave an obeisance before hurrying back inside the manor.

"So I get to meet the lad, then," Alois said with a confident smile, placing his hand on his hip. "How exciting."

"Please remain appropriate, Alois," Ciel advised. "If you believe that the Duke of Marche is stiff, wait until you meet the Duke of Brittany."

"Right out here, Sir," Hannah's soft voice was heard.

"Thank you."

Ciel bit his lip momentarily and the two males turned as the glass doors opened, revealing Ciel's fiancé at last.

* * *

"You're tellin' me that if I mix these two things together, it'll create a reaction?"

"Yes!" Sebastian verified excitedly. "It will create a glorious reaction!"

"Okay," Bard said uneasily. "But what's this stuff made out of, Sebastian?"

"This here," Sebastian started, lifting up a beaker proudly. "Is potassium iodide."

"Uhh okay. So… What does it do?"

"Nothing," Sebastian declared.

"Nothing?" Bard asked. "It does _nothing? _Then why am I here?!"

"You didn't let me finish," Sebastian chuckled. "It does absolutely nothing on its own, but when combined with this," he continued, holding up another beaker. "It has an amazing reaction."

Bard stared at the potassium iodide crystals resting at the bottom of the first vial before his eyes transferred to the clear liquid in the second.

"Alright, so the white rock things are the potassium iodidio. What's the clear stuff?"

_ "Iodide," _Sebastian corrected. "And I'm not sure. Some stranger dropped it after he paid for his groceries. I haven't thought of a name for it yet, but whenever it's combined with the potassium iodide crystals it produces-"

"I know, an amazing reaction," Bard finished. "I don't see why you get so interested in this stuff."

Bard, Sebastian's best friend since youth, was also born in the third estate. However, Bard was indifferent about being poor and simple. He tolerated his job of working on a farm and he didn't mind the ragged clothes and life of an indigent.

His companion, on the other hand, though he did work at a market, enjoyed chemistry immensely. No matter where Sebastian wandered, he was constantly seen mixing and studying liquids and solids, observing the concepts of forming gases, examining the physical properties of malleable materials. Just the thought of it all gave him chills!

"I'm interested in it because I love it," Sebastian admitted with a smile. "The possibilities are endless. I study things that I can see with my own two eyes, but imagine the tinier things in life that I can't see. Imagine a life in smaller particles that has day-to-day routines like us, and their own special purposes. Imagine a life so small that it could fit in the palm of your hand!"

"You're odd," Bard concluded. "We need to focus on _our _lives instead."

"I suppose you're right," Sebastian sighed. "Maybe I'm getting a little carried away."

"Don't get down on yourself," Bard encouraged, patting Sebastian's back. "I'm sure your two little vials make a great kaboom."

"It's missing something," Sebastian said, staring at his two beakers and pondering. "But what…"

"Look, Mr. Scientist, you have all day to figure out what's missing. We better get back to the market before Monsieur _Méchant _notices you're gone."

"Alright," Sebastian agreed, stowing his two beakers behind his bed of straw. He followed his friend out and the two strolled through the busy slums in silence.

_ Something is missing, _Sebastian continued to ponder as they walked. _But what?_

* * *

Alois was reticent, his mouth wide open in surprise. Ciel stood there, struggling to keep his expression blank instead of disgusted.

He hated this man. He really did.

And his dread prolonged its augmentation as he continued to approach the two boys, his polished shoes hitting the stone with quiet _click click clicks._

_ I want him out of here, _Ciel screamed inside of his head. _I want him to return to Brittany and never come back!_

"Hello, my darling," Ciel's fiancé greeted, and Ciel secretly clenched his fists as tight as he could before meeting the man's gaze.

Standing at an approximate 6'0", the man towered over his petite fiancé, practically casting a shadow with his elevated physique. He had natural _noir _hair, which he kept neatly trimmed and combed. His chartreuse eyes were constantly contradicting in color, debating between a green and a yellow. Though the color was rather pretty, they were visually catching for their odd humorlessness, alerting others that he was a strict and professional man. The stringency in his eyes was increased by his black glasses, that matched and completed his outfit of a dark suit.

"Don't be rude, Ciel," Alois teased, his shock wearing off. "Introduce me."

"Darling," Ciel said stiffly with a _faux_ smile, gesturing toward his friend. "This is Lord Alois Trancy, future Duchess of Marche."

"A pleasure," Ciel's fiancé pronounced, taking a hold of Alois's hand and placing a light kiss to his knuckles. "I've known the Duke of Marche for many years. We're quite close companions."

"Oh," Alois blushed with a flattered giggle. "We all must get together for tea sometime."

"And _Alois," _Ciel continued, choosing to ignore his friend's flirtatious attitude. "This is my fiancé…"

Ciel's sentence drifted off and he gave a subtle, nervous cough before finishing.

"… William T. Spears, Duke of Brittany."

* * *

"Hey, Sebastian!" Bard protested. "Don't use all my soap! I might smell succulent now but believe me I'll need it later!"

Sebastian smiled at his friend's joke and continued to scrape shavings off the bar of soap with his knife.

"Don't worry, Bard. I won't use it all. I think this is the final ingredient that I'm missing in my mixture."

"The final ingredient huh," Bard mused, watching Sebastian carve the soap. "What's useless parings of soap going to do?"

"If I'm correct, the soap should help stimulate and enhance the final product. This is all I need to make the response unimaginably magnificent! It will produce wonders right before our eyes!"

"Your vocabulary sure is big for a peasant, y'know."

Sebastian flashed Bard a grin. "I've been eavesdropping on conversations between the nobles. They have large vocabularies. Half the words I've never even heard before. I want to prove that I can be as intelligent as them without _argent de poche."_

"Whatever you say, genius. So how will we know if this magnificent thing works?"

"We must try it out tomorrow," Sebastian decided. "I'll hide it in my shirt and bring it to the market. Meet me there and we'll try."

"Are you crazy?" Bard exclaimed. "Mr. Midford will kill us!"

"I must try," Sebastian begged. "I have to know if it will work."

Bard was hesitant as he thought the idea over, and the pleading look Sebastian gave him hindered him from refusing.

"Alright," Bard surrendered. "We'll try your science experiment tomorrow."

* * *

** Sebastian's so cute. Gotta love an aspiring scientist.**

** The "mystery" ingredient Sebastian supposedly found was hydrogen peroxide, and his "experiment" is really something called "elephant toothpaste," which can be made from a potassium iodide solution, hydrogen peroxide, and dish soap. It's cool if you want to try it out.**

** In that time period, hydrogen peroxide did not exist and neither did dish soap, (regular soap would most likely not work) but this is FICTION so, like I said before, please bear with me.**

** Mére - Mother**

** Fille - Daughter/Girl**

** Méchant - Mean**

** Noir - Black**

** Faux - False/Fake**

** Argent de poche - Spending money**


	3. Diary Entry 214

** To bluejellyfishOuO:**

** I'm sorry if it seemed like I was ignoring your review because I wasn't, I was just trying to come up with an answer to your question.**

** It doesn't really mean anything, it's pretty insignificant, actually. But it's also hard to explain why I used that name for the title, so I'll probably explain it at the end of this fic. ^-^**

** Enjoy kitlets :D**

* * *

Hannah Anafeloz had served the Phantomhive family since she was a young girl.

She was born in the third estate and had no siblings, which left her to be the caretaker of her mother and a strong, working bull for her father. It certainly wasn't easy, but Hannah managed.

The Anafeloz girl learned her place in the real world immediately after associating with others. She became perfectly cognizant of the fact that the nobles were better and always would be better than her.

Did it enrage Hannah? Mercy, no. Quite the opposite, actually. It fueled her with the passion of wanting to serve one of those nobles, no matter how inexplicable that desire was.

Her parents, like the rest of the peasants, spoke the lowest of the higher classes. And they had every right to considering the treatment they received from the aristocrats daily.

But Hannah didn't speak ill of the rich, nor did she think of them as sycophants, (a word her mother directed to the duchess's frequently.)

No, what little Hannah really desired was to cater and accommodate the wealthy nobles.

She could imagine a neatly pressed maid outfit replacing her rags and tatters. She could feel her fingers curl around a brush for the first time, combing her ratted tresses until they glimmered with cleanliness. She could feel the stares and widening eyes as she elegantly arranged the _assiettes _into a flawless dining display. Why, she could practically hear gasps of amazement and sighs of appreciation as she delivered the nightly meal on _un plateau, _consisting of a large slab of beef that melted like butter against their noble tongues and fresh bread that crackled like a cozy fire on a cold winter night. Afterwards, a rich and divine chocolate dessert that kept them craving and begging for more, eating the sugary repast until their ruffled silk linens burst from the growth of their abdomens. And the _wine. _She'd serve them the finest wine in an unlimited supply, soaking in the warm ambiance of drunk laughter and carefree smiles.

The life seemed so perfect and so close, Hannah could practically taste it on her tongue. However, in the same instance, it was a dream she could never have no matter how hard she worked for it nor how often she begged.

She was born in the third estate, therefore she would stay in the third estate.

"Hannah," her mother coughed, beckoning the girl.

"Yes, Mother?" Hannah asked quietly and politely.

"I'm willing to bet you're hungry."

"Starving," Hannah admitted. "But it's been three days since you've consumed food, Mother. Surely you must be hungrier than I."

_ "J'ai faim," _she croaked, her copious coughing growing louder.

"I'll visit the market, Mother," Hannah offered. "They certainly must have apples that they can spare."

"Do not get caught, Hannah," the sick woman warned. "They'll slice the buoyancy right out of you."

Hannah gulped and nodded. "I'll be careful, Mother."

The young girl placed a benevolent kiss on the ill woman's forehead before leaving the bedside and preparing to voyage into town.

As always, Hannah attempted to smooth down her knotted and wiry white hair, hoping that maybe she could appear as beautiful as a noble lady. She frowned as she studied the color pigment of the strands, aware that she must have been born with a curse for having hair whiter than an old woman's. She was also tempted to cut some of it off, since it seemed that one small portion of hair, directly positioned in the back of her head, was slightly longer than the rest. If the fried and straw-like nature of her hair didn't catch anyone's eyes - which it certainly would - then the length of that lock would indubitably capture their attention.

"Good morning, Hannah."

"Good morning, Monsieur Lau," Hannah called, waving back to the man.

"Where are you heading so early in the morning?"

"To the market," Hannah said, stopping to talk to Lau. "Would you happen to need anything?"

"A very kind offer but no, I'm in no need of anything," Lau stated with his usual smile. "Don't let them catch you filching."

"I won't," Hannah assured with a smile, throwing the man a wink. "I'm an expert."

The two waved goodbye and Hannah carried on through the slums, calling out a few more 'hellos' to other people she happened to be familiar with.

Soon enough, as she traveled further down the dirt path, the slums were left behind and she smiled when she saw a view of town ahead.

_ It's been so long since I've traveled to town, _Hannah realized. _Filled with nobles with sophisticated clothing and elegant houses occupied with furniture made out of the finest material available. _

The enthusiastic girl began skipping down the dirt road, a large grin highlighting her lips and showing off her cute teeth.

_ There will be dogs with coats that are brushed until the hair glimmers in the sunlight, maybe a few times more. And giggling children playing with marbles and small trinkets, the mothers chuckling as their progeny live with not a care in the world._

Hannah sighed dreamily and she stopped her skipping once her feet clacked on cobblestone. She gazed in wonder as she became surrounded in a crowd of people, all of them dressed in their regal grandeur.

_ Nobles, _Hannah thought happily. _They're everywhere!_

The disgusted sneers and critical glares that were shot Hannah's way hadn't caught her attention at all, and even if they did, she would still be smiling with admiration. They appeared just as she had remembered from her last venture. So magnificent, so commendable, so _flawless._

Hannah blinked in surprise when she nearly bumped into a small cart of produce, obviously too caught up in her daydreaming to notice the close proximity.

_ Alright, _Hannah instructed herself, letting out a nervous breath as her eyes scanned up and down the choices of fruits and vegetables. _I will grab two apples, one for me and one for mother. I have no room to hide anything else._

Hannah slyly reached her tiny hand up and quickly snatched an apple, tucking the ripe fruit away in her rags.

_ I only need one more._

Hannah's hand crept into the apple pile and her fingers grazed the smooth, red skin.

_ One more._

"Get your hand out of there you filthy little brat!"

Hannah gasped and immediately turned to run, but a quick hand gripped her wrist firmly, preventing the girl from running away.

"Let me go!" Hannah cried, desperately trying to escape from the grasp.

"You were trying to steal an apple, you thief!" The merchant shrieked. "The guillotine shall be your fate for that!"

"No!" Hannah screamed, thrashing as much as she could, tears already streaming down her face. "Let me go!"

"What is going on here?" A man asked, approaching the situation.

Hannah blinked away the flood of tears to see the man, her mouth slightly opening in awe as she observed his intricately threaded suit, complimented with a top hat that rested on his shiny dark hair that brushed against his face.

"Oh, oh!" The merchant gasped. "Marquis of Phantomhive! I will help you immediately after I dispose of this brat-"

"I asked a question," he reminded.

"Nothing at all, Sir," the merchant answered, giving a forceful tug to Hannah's arm. "Just a young thief trying to steal my profit."

"A thief?" Marquis Phantomhive repeated.

"Yes, Sir."

The marquis slowly bent his knees, lowering himself until he was at eye-level with the girl.

"What is your name?"

"I-I'm sorry, Marquis Phantomhive," Hannah blurted, another flow of tears drizzling down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."

"What is your name?" The marquis asked again, doffing his top hat politely.

"H-Hannah."

"Hannah, did you try to steal an apple?"

"I-I didn't mean to," Hannah squealed once more.

"Hannah," Marquis of Phantomhive said in a stern tone. "Did you try to steal an apple?"

Hannah lowered her head in shame. "Yes, Sir."

The marquis rose to his feet. "Grab an apple, Hannah."

"What?" The merchant and the girl both synchronized in shock.

"Grab an apple," Marquis of Phantomhive reiterated. "Any apple you'd like."

Hannah hesitated before slowly reaching her arm into the bundle of apples and grabbing the largest one she could find.

"Good eye," Marquis Phantomhive commented. "That definitely looks like a delicious one."

The marquis casually slipped the merchant an assignat with a dazzling smirk. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I believe this should cover it."

"W-why yes, Sir, but why would you pay for a filthy brat?"

"Good day," Marquis Phantomhive said, choosing to ignore the question and gesturing for Hannah to follow.

The girl stumbled along, struggling to keep up with the older man. "T-thank you for saving me back there. I wouldn't still have my head if not for you."

Marquis of Phantomhive smiled and stopped for a moment, making the young girl stop, as well.

"You're in the third estate, aren't you, Hannah?"

Hannah's cheeks lit up pink with embarrassment but she nodded nevertheless. "Yes, Sir."

"Come," he gestured. "Let us find a place where we can sit for a while."

The two strolled through more crowds of people and passed dozens of shops before the marquis led her to a small garden bursting with colorful flowers and a flowing water fountain.

"Wow," Hannah sighed, gazing around at the scenery. "This is beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it," Marquis Phantomhive smiled, sitting on a stone bench that rested close to the fountain. "I used to come here when I was a young boy."

Hannah sat next to the marquis and silently continued to admire the plants and glistening water that made a tranquil trickling sound.

"Your hair is beautiful," he remarked. "I've never seen tresses with such a unique color."

"It's a curse," Hannah instantly blurted out. "It makes me look like an old woman."

"I couldn't disagree more," the marquis argued. "The rareness of that color makes you special."

"Yeah, I guess," Hannah murmured grimly. "It's rough and straw-like, too. Not like all those other pretty girls with soft hair."

The marquis slightly frowned before he reached into his coat.

"You know," he began as he slipped the small object out. "I have a pregnant wife at home. According to the needle trick, we're expecting a daughter."

"Really?" Hannah asked with interest, her mood brightening a little from the subject change.

"Yes," Marquis Phantomhive answered, gently taking a strand of Hannah's hair. "I plan on buying her gorgeous dresses and jewels that will adore her neck and wrists. Every night I'll tuck her in and brush her hair before bed, but since my daughter isn't here yet, will you allow me to brush your hair instead?"

Hannah turned her head to see a small hairbrush in the marquis's fingers, the silver handle glinting in the light.

"Please," Hannah begged. "I've always wanted to have my hair brushed."

Marquis of Phantomhive smiled and nodded, then he began taking the brush and running it through her knotted locks, smoothing out the unique white hair.

Hannah sighed as she felt the knots in her hair come undone, her tresses now seeming lighter and softer against her neck.

_ "À la claire fontaine," _Marquis Phantomhive sang softly as he continued to brush the girl's hair.

"I know that song," Hannah whispered. "My mother used to sing it to me. '_Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, jamais je ne t'oublierai.'"_

"That's right," he smiled. "You know that song well."

"It used to be my favorite," Hannah stated sadly. "I could listen to her sing it over and over and it would never get old."

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the trickling water, chirping birds, and quiet breeze speak their mind.

"All done."

Hannah swooped her hair over her shoulder, amazed as her fingers ran through her newly supple and gorgeous hair.

"It feels so nice," she gushed, petting her hair continuously until she felt a slight bump.

The marquis laughed as Hannah brought the one braid into view, studying the pattern in confusion.

"There's one lock of hair that's longer than the others," he explained. "So I decided to braid it. I think it suits you."

Hannah glanced back at the man and gave him a warm and thankful smile. _"Merci beaucoup, _Marquis of Phantomhive."

Hannah had been offered a position at the marquis's manor that day, which she happily accepted. She moved in immediately, learning her duties by watching the older maids at the estate. She was given a maid uniform that was far more respectable than the rags she had once wore. Last, but certainly not least, Hannah was able to brush her hair every morning and evening.

And even as the years passed, the one braid in her hair still remained.

* * *

The night Marquise of Phantomhive gave birth to her first and only child had been a strenuous one.

Maids had been sprinting through the hallways in a frenzy, exchanging damp cloths and hurrying to comfort the soon-to-be mother as much as they could.

Loud groans echoed through the halls and the marquis struggled to help his wife, (considering this was his first time experiencing the setting of childbirth and he was clueless as to what to do.)

Hannah rushed into the room quickly, a dripping piece of fabric resting in her hands. "Here's another damp cloth, Ma'am."

Hannah gently peeled the already lukewarm cloth off of the marquise's forehead before replacing it with the one she held.

"Hannah," Marquise Phantomhive gasped, her face slightly scrunching in agony. "I think it's coming."

"What?" Hannah gasped, her young face turning pale. "I-I'll go get Angela…"

"There's no time," she breathed, grasping her husband in one hand and clutching onto the blanket beneath her with the other. "You'll have to deliver it."

"What?! M-Ma'am, I don't have the capability of-"

"Hannah, please," the marquis begged, holding onto his wife's hand lovingly. "We don't have any other option."

Hannah took a deep breath and nodded. It had been years since she had witnessed a mother giving birth, and the once vivid memory was now quite vague. However, the Phantomhive's had given her a home at a young age and she considered them to be her family, so she would do anything to help the marquise through her delivery.

The woman's groans grew louder and Hannah took another nervous breath as she slowly and carefully pushed the marquise's dress up, crumpling the fabric until it touched her stomach.

Hannah laid a shaky hand on the marquise's thigh, gently touching her smooth skin. "Push."

The marquise let out another wail and she threw her head back, her grip on her husband and the blanket tightening greatly.

"Rachel? Rachel?" The marquis panicked, desperately trying to soothe his wife. "Hannah, what's wrong with her?"

"This is a dreadfully painful process, Sir," Hannah answered, giving another encouraging squeeze to the marquise's thigh. "But I can promise a superlative outcome."

Marquis Phantomhive regretfully tried to calm down as his wife twisted and writhed in every which way, yowling and screeching.

"Push a little harder, Marquise," Hannah instructed, and the marquise let out another whine as she desperately tried to push and ignore the pain.

"I can see it," Hannah announced excitedly, leaning closer in. "It's coming! Keep pushing!"

Marquis of Phantomhive watched in awe as the baby came into view, slowly sliding into Hannah's arms as his wife continued to force the child out.

"Alright," Hannah said quietly, grabbing a small blanket off of the bed and wrapping the baby in the fabric. "You're done."

The marquise sighed and let out exasperated breaths. "H-how is my child?"

"Perfect," Hannah whispered, cradling the baby close to her. "It's a boy."

"A boy?" Marquis Phantomhive asked in surprise. "The needle foretold a girl."

Hannah glanced at the marquis. "It's a boy. And he's absolutely flawless."

"What should we name him?" The marquis questioned, looking to his panting wife.

She took a few more breaths before she gazed up at him and smiled. "Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive."

"I like it," he commented. "What do you think, Hannah?"

"I love it," Hannah said with a beam, staring down at the newborn she held. "Little Ciel."

The couple watched their maid in joy as the youthful woman playfully prodded the baby with her index finger, running the digit up and down his tiny arm.

Hannah's finger slightly touched Ciel's palm and his fingers immediately curled around it, grasping onto her and unwilling to let go.

_ He feels me, _Hannah thought, a warm, happy tear trailing down her cheek. _I love him already. I'll do anything to ensure that this child has a perfect life. I vow to protect you as if you were my own, little Ciel._

For once in her life, Hannah felt valuable. Someone in this world now needed her guidance, her care, her love. Though Hannah was aware that Ciel needed her, she also knew that she needed Ciel.

* * *

The maid raised the young noble throughout his whole childhood, substituting for his two parents that hardly ever had time to be there.

She taught him his letters, his numbers, how to read and write and his impeccable manners. Hannah was always there for Ciel, and, surprisingly, Ciel was always there for Hannah.

The two were more like best friends than master and servant. Whenever Ciel got in trouble, Hannah came to the rescue. Whenever Hannah was blamed for an accident, Ciel quickly made up an excuse for her. They were an unbeatable duo that constantly had each others' backs.

Ciel rapidly grew into an impressive gentlemen, wooing all of the young ladies with his schmoozing chatter yet staying true to himself when he would enter Hannah's room at night voluntarily, combing her hair for her until he was sure that it was softer than silk and no tangles remained.

The boy would be a naturally perfect husband, and he was sure to rule Marquis of Phantomhive's place with a kind heart but a piquant mind.

That is, of course, until they considered him to be too feminine-like.

The decision had enraged Hannah completely. Ciel was born a boy and he would always be a boy, no matter his size and features. But that wasn't her choice to make, and apparently since Ciel seemed too polite and too fragile for a male, he would be forced to marry another noble against his will and live the life of a housewife.

From the moment they decided Ciel's fate to the present day, Hannah abhorred the idea of that boy, whom she loved like her own son, having his life controlled by someone other than himself.

And as she stood in the back of the church watching him sing with his appalling fiancé by his side, she couldn't hate the verdict more.

* * *

_ "Eternal father, strong to save, whose arm hath bound the restless wave. Who bidd'st the mighty ocean deep, it's own appointed limits keep."_

"You sing beautifully," William whispered in Ciel's ear, making the boy frown deeply.

"Don't you know that it's rude to speak during a hymn?"

"Don't you know that it's intolerable to disparage your fiancé?"

Ciel's frown intensified and he returned his focus to the hymn.

_ "O Trinity of love and power, our brethren shield in danger's hour. From rock and tempest, fire and foe, protect them wheresoe'er they go. Thus evermore shall rise to Thee, glad hymns of praise from land and sea."_

Ciel unenthusiastically linked his arm with his fiancé's as they gracefully walked down the stone stairs outside of the church, Hannah trailing behind the two while they were behind Ciel's parents.

"What a wonderful congregation," Marquise of Phantomhive commented as they gathered together at the bottom of the stairs.

"I couldn't agree more," William smirked, giving Ciel's arm a squeeze. "Did you enjoy it, Darling?"

"Of course, _Darling."_

Hannah gave a silent snort and Ciel flicked his eyes in her direction, a tiny, mischievous smile dancing across his lips.

_ At least someone understands._

"Shall we all head back to the manor for tea?" Marquis Phantomhive suggested, but before Ciel could take a step forward William held him still.

"I'm afraid Ciel and I have some shopping to do," William said with an apologetic smile. "We'll catch up with you afterwards."

The marquise nodded. "Of course. Come, Hannah."

The maid penitently followed Ciel's parents, leaving the boy alone with his fiancé.

_ This day will be extremely unpleasant._

* * *

"Sebastian! Damn it, you bastard! Wait up!"

"Come on, Bard!" Sebastian hollered behind him, his hair whisking in the breeze as he sprinted. "I know you can run faster than that!"

"Your legs are longer than mine!" Bard protested, barely stumbling as he tried to keep up with his companion.

"You'll make me late for work if you get any slower! Then Mr. Midford will _really _be angry!"

The two males prolonged their hurried dash, Sebastian staying ahead of his friend the entire journey.

"Damn," Bard gasped when they finally made it to the market. "I didn't know you could run so fast."

Sebastian chuckled and brushed his long bangs out of his face, the hair coated with a thin stratum of sweat. "I steal from Mr. Midford regularly so I get plenty of practice."

His friend flashed him a crooked grin and he dug into his ripped-up trousers. "By the way, here's your beaker of potassium ideeda."

_ "Iodide," _Sebastian reminded, taking the beaker from Bard. "You really should work on your pronunciation."

"Psh, that glop is for rich kids. So what do we do?"

"We'll take this mystery substance," Sebastian began, taking the vial of clear liquid out of his trousers. "And then we'll add the shavings of soap in. Lastly, we'll pour the potassium iodide into the mixture of liquid and soap."

"Then we'll see the reaction?" Bard asked, and Sebastian nodded.

"Then we'll see the reaction."

"Well, no time like the present, right?" Bard said, his goofy smirk appearing once more. "Let's fire this baby up!"

Sebastian smiled. "Alright, let's begin."

* * *

"We should have white flowers at the wedding. Don't you agree, Darling?"

"Mhm."

"And the set up should be white, as well."

"Mhm."

"Perhaps everything should be white. It will emphasize the purity of the ceremony."

"Mhm."

Ciel sighed as he walked with his fiancé, his arm starting to go numb from holding onto the man.

"You seem to have grown quiet."

"Mhm."

"Ciel," William hissed. "Socialize with me."

"Fine," Ciel spat. "You've had a deceased insect stuck to the outside of your spectacles for quite some time."

William's mouth fell open and he quickly removed his glasses, hastily breathing on the lenses and wiping them with a handkerchief.

Ciel sighed from the gesture and glanced around. "So why are we going to the market?"

William cleared his throat and slipped his glasses back on after deeming them immaculate. "You'll need to keep your figure if you're planning on marrying me, and I've noticed that there aren't many healthy alternatives in your household."

"I'm underweight!" Ciel argued.

"Precisely. We wouldn't want that to change, would we? I certainly couldn't put up with a pudgy housewife that's out of breath as soon as she takes a single step."

Ciel's face was reddened with rage and he clenched his fists until his knuckles resembled snow.

_ How dare this man believe that he can mold the way I look! And he referred to me as a woman!_

The infuriated boy and his censorious fiancé strolled through the town in silence, finally approaching the market within a few minutes.

_ I swear, if they really believe that I'll marry this conceited bast-_

Ciel's thoughts were interrupted when he felt a smack on the side of his head, and his eyesight was blinded.

* * *

"Right, so we'll dump the soap flakes into this clear liquid," Sebastian explained, dropping the soap into the substance.

"This isn't too exciting, Sebastian," Bard yawned.

"It's coming, I promise," Sebastian assured. "Now, we take the potassium iodide and pour it into this mixture."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Bard asked, wary of the concoction exploding.

"I guess we'll find out," Sebastian said, and he quickly spilled the potassium iodide into the mixture.

Steaming foam instantly shot out of the beaker, spurting uncontrollably.

"Cover your eyes!" Sebastian warned. "This may be toxic!"

Soon enough, the expansion of the foam slowed, and it eventually sat still in the vial.

"Wow," Bard prattled. "That was awesome!"

"It was pretty interesting, wasn't it?" Sebastian mused with an achieved grin, but the smile faded quickly.

"Uh oh."

"What is it?" Bard quizzed, but he answered his own question once he saw that their experiment had gone way out of hand, and onto the face of a noble.

* * *

"Hannah," Ciel chirped as he crawled into bed. "Tell me a bedtime story."

"Tonight?" Hannah asked, collapsing in the chair that sat next to the boy's bed. "Aren't you tired from playing all day?"

"I am," Ciel admitted, pulling his covers over his small body. "But I can't sleep without a story. And tell me a new one, not the one about the old lady who lives in a shoe."

"But why not?" Hannah whined. "That one is a classic."

"It gets old. Please, Hannah? Please tell me a bedtime story?"

"Alright, fine," Hannah succumbed. "But you have to lie down fully."

"Yay!" Ciel plopped his head down on his pillow, wriggling under the covers until he was comfortable.

"Once upon a time, there lived _un petit roi."_

"What was his name?" Ciel inquired.

"His name was Ciel," Hannah answered, Ciel giggling at the response. "And Ciel was flawless in every way possible. _Un jour, _Ciel decided to hold a resplendent party."

"What was the party like?"

"Ciel was a very playful person, so the party involved masks and frivolous costumes, though he had a grandiose outfit that outshone them all. During the party, Ciel danced and chatted with many of his guests, all of which were wearing masks. The only way he could distinguish the guests was by their eyes."

"That doesn't sound like a simple task," Ciel pointed out, and Hannah nodded in agreement.

"It wasn't, and many of the eyes appeared to be identical. However, even though Ciel confronted and greeted many people, one person stood out to him."

"But wasn't he wearing a mask?"

"He was."

"Then how did he stand out?"

"His _eyes," _Hannah reminded. "Like I mentioned before, the only way he could recognize his guests were by their eyes."

"But eyes don't stand out, Hannah," Ciel argued. "How could he remember that one person out of dozens of different pairs of eyes?"

"Because those eyes were different from all of the others."

"They were different?"

"Yes."

"Were they huge?"

"No."

"Were they tiny?"

"No."

"Did they have designs in them?"

"No."

"Then how were they different?"

Hannah smiled at the inquisitiveness and she leaned in close to whisper the answer. "They were different because they only focused on Ciel."

Ciel blinked in confusion. "So? What does that mean?"

"There is one and only one sure way to determine if someone is in love. If you look at their eyes, and they seem to be focused on only one thing, and they never want to stop gazing at that thing, then their feelings are true."

"Okay," Ciel started. "So the difference was… that he was in love with Ciel?"

"Yes, and that's how Ciel remembered him, because of that distinctive, loving stare that he had locked eyes with for maybe only a moment."

"Is that another one of your fairytales, Hannah?"

Hannah chuckled. "It could be. Along with the distinctive 'love stare,' it always depends on the angle you look at it."

* * *

"What is this shit?!" Ciel screamed effusively, wiping his eyes with his hands.

_ Foam? _Ciel wondered. _Why the hell is there foam on me?!_

"That's repulsive," William remarked bluntly.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Forgive me!"

The two nobles glanced to their right to see two peasants running toward them, their expressions one of shame and embarrassment.

Though Ciel's vision was obscured, he could somewhat observe their exterior. One had black hair that was whipping wildly as he ran, his bangs seemed to be cut messily. He wore a loose white shirt with brown suspenders and brown trousers that had been patched in a few places. The latter had blond hair and a similar white shirt, the only variance being the extra tears in the material and he wore no suspenders. His trousers were equally ripped and torn and they only stretched down to his knee, exposing the remainder of his legs.

"I'm so sorry," the black-haired one breathed as they came near. "I honestly didn't mean to-"

He stopped talking once he noticed Ciel, and Ciel froze in place, as well. The two males locked gazes and time seemed to disappear.

_ Oh my god, _Ciel gasped in his head, his expression turning into one of surprise as he stared at the peasant.

_ It's those eyes._

* * *

** Assiettes - Plates**

** Un plateau - A platter/tray**

** J'ai faim - I'm hungry**

** Merci beaucoup - Thank you very much**

** Un petit roi - A little king**

** Un jour - One day**

** "À la claire fontaine" - "By the clear fountain" a traditional French song about a lost love. **


	4. Diary Entry 214 Continued

**I'm not sure how many people read the names of chapters, but I suggest reading the names of chapters in this fic if you haven't already (to prevent later confusion.)**

**I want to thank Kawaii Dream for reading every one of my stories - since I haven't had many people read every single one - and I also want to thank you for being a wonderfully supporting kitlet ^-^ that means everything to me.**

**And yes, Hannah's story to Ciel was in the past, at a point where she was aware that he would have to marry a male someday, but he hadn't been engaged yet.**

**Enjoy the chapter(s) kitlets. ^-^**

* * *

Hours seemed to pass by. Years seemed to pass by. Centuries upon centuries flew past in a matter of measly seconds.

The peasant and the noble had been staring into each other's eyes for only a few moments, barely enough time for their hearts to pulse a simple beat, but perhaps that was because their hearts weren't beating.

The two antitheses were ultimately paralyzed.

"Don't you have anything to say, vagrant?" William spat, his words as vicious as venom.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry," the black-haired peasant panicked, breaking the gaze to acknowledge Ciel's indignant fiancé.

"That's it? You enshroud my fiancé in vaporous _déchets _and all you respond with is _'sorry?'"_

The young man blinked. "F-fiancé?"

"Yes, _fiancé!" _William screamed, his glasses slightly sliding down his nose. "What is it to some indigent like you?!"

"William," Ciel began, gently placing his hand on the noble's arm. "He meant no harm."

"You're _defending him?!" _William shrieked, his cheeks turning red from rage. "He should be killed!"

"Please, Sir!" The black-haired peasant begged, his eyes pleading desperately. "I swear I meant no harm."

"He didn't," the blond-haired man insisted, finally making his presence known. "We were just-"

"Silence yourselves!" William ordered, and the two men instantly became quiet, obviously cowering in fear from the malcontent noble.

"William," Ciel said softly, lightly wiping more foam off of his cheekbone. "We should head back to the manor. Marquise will wonder what's taking us so long and I'd like to change into fresh linens."

William sighed in irritation, nevertheless he readjusted his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and linked his arm with Ciel's once again. "Very well."

Ciel gave a silent breath of relief when William reluctantly turned his back to the two peasants, silent as he and Ciel began to walk away. Ciel took one more quick glance behind him, noting how the black-haired man was staring after them.

_Hannah wasn't telling a fairytale, _Ciel thought, turning his focus back to the path in front of him. _I know what I saw. Those eyes were recognizable._

* * *

**Diary Entry 217**

* * *

"Ciel," Alois whispered, prodding his friend's shoulder with his index finger. "You are coming to my wedding in three days, right?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Ciel asked in an equally quiet tone.

"I don't know," Alois giggled, Ciel rolling his eyes at the blond's callowness.

"Lord Trancy, Lord Phantomhive."

Upon hearing their names spoken, both boys immediately stood from their seats, switching their focus on the large wooden doors that were now open, revealing a familiar figure in the doorway.

"Father Ash," the two greeted, Ciel's back stiffening ever so slightly.

"You may be seated," the white-haired man declared, entering the church just as the two doors shut behind him.

Father Ash was presumably the most respected man around. He was the leader of the church and he led with a firm stance, his leadership usually not very forgiving of sins nor the committers. Father Ash lived and breathed by his strive for purity, that being his only purpose in life.

"Are you prepared for our lesson today?"

"Yes, Father."

"Then say the chant together, after that we will begin."

Ciel grit his teeth and clenched his fists in anger as he and Alois stated the chant together, something he despised more than anything.

_"Homosexuality is a sin in the eyes of God. However, we, our very existence, is a sin to God, for we are marked with traits of the opposite sex. Therefore, we were born as sins, and allowing another of the same sex to control us, defile us, will be our punishment for perturbing God."_

"Very good," Father Ash said with a nod. "Now we will begin."

Ciel's nails dug further and further into the flesh on his palm, slicing into his pale skin sharply.

This was wrong. _He _was wrong. Father Ash had no right to make the two boys state their incompetence of living as males. It was the others who decided their fate, not them. Why did they have to call themselves sins when it was their families that made the choice?

"Who can tell me where we left off last _Dimanche?"_

"We were discussing future plans, Sir," Alois answered. "Our futures with our husbands."

"Ah yes, 'future plans.'"

Ciel narrowed his eyes, his patience already wearing. Every _Dimanche, _Ciel and Alois were expected to attend private lessons with Father Ash, where they were supposed to learn how to live as newly becoming housewives and how to treat their husbands accordingly. Of course, Father Ash had his opinion of the two boys, and so, at least in Ciel's perspective, the lessons never went particularly well.

"Lord Trancy, your wedding is actually in three days, is it not?"

Alois gulped nervously. "That is correct, Father."

"I see," Father Ash murmured, his eyes floating over to Ciel. "And you, Lord Phantomhive?"

"I wouldn't know."

Father Ash's eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't know?"

Ciel crossed his legs casually, leaning his head against his hand as he spoke. "The Duke of Brittany has arrived very recently. I'm afraid he's not used to this change in scenery quite yet."

"And you aren't helping him adjust like a proper bride should?"

Ciel cut his eyes toward the white-haired priest, glaring daggers that could practically cleave through his skin, ripping tendons and perhaps splintering bones. "He is not ready. What part of that did you not understand?"

Alois bit his lip apprehensively as he watched his best friend and the religious leader duel with their gazes, competitively trying to strike fear into each other's souls.

"Fine then," Father Ash concluded fiercely. "Let us finally begin our lesson."

Alois stole a glance at Ciel and observed that he was now smiling, proud that he was victorious in the callous staring.

"Since Lord Trancy will be married in a few days and Lord Phantomhive will be married _soon, _I find it's only appropriate to continue discussing your futures."

Ciel's smile faded away and was replaced by his disgusted scowl once more. _Not this drivel again._

"I suppose you two haven't a clue about what's to happen on the wedding night and the day after."

Alois slightly jolted in surprise as did Ciel, whom was now more interested and he curiously lifted an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

Father Ash smirked darkly and he gave a quiet snicker. "So you really don't know? Then I believe it's my duty to inform you two brides as to what will happen. On the wedding night you both _will _fall backward. And you will not hesitate."

Alois's innocent face lit up in red and Ciel's cheeks dared to show pink as Father Ash continued, his grin widening from their unequivocal physical responses.

"Then, on the day after the wedding, he will leave you for an entire day and night."

"What do you mean 'leave us?' Claude would never leave me..." Alois denied quietly, but the priest shook his head.

"Oh, but he will. You see, reproducing is the reason marriages are essential, and that is why many get started immediately on their wedding night. You two, however, are special cases, because since you are sins and have no choice but to marry someone of the same sex, you cannot reproduce."

Ciel and Alois both glanced each other, aware that neither were looking forward to hearing what Father Ash was about to say next.

"That is why, on the day after the wedding, your husbands will leave you so they can be with women."

Alois's mouth fell open. "You mean...?"

Father Ash's sinister smile grew and he nodded. "Yes. They will have sexual intercourse with any woman of their choice, guaranteeing them a child in the end so their marriage to you two won't be nonsensical. Depending on how many children your husbands want, they can continue to copulate with however many women they want, and it does not have to be the same woman every time."

"Claude's going to have sexual intercourse with someone other than me? His fiancé?" Alois cried. "I don't want that to happen! He's supposed to be _my _fiancé!"

"Lord Trancy!" Father Ash exclaimed. "You will _not, under any circumstances _refer to your fiancé by his first name. He has the power over you, not contrariwise, hence he is not _your _fiancé, rather you are solely _his."_

Alois kept quiet but his eyes shone with sadness, obviously upset with the knowledge that the Duke of Marche would be sleeping with someone other than himself. Ciel felt likewise, and though he was equally upset, it wasn't for the same reason. Ciel strongly believed in monogamy, and he'd be damned if he was going to let the Duke of Brittany desecrate that belief by possessing dozens of whores, all hidden in secrecy to then come home and demand the same sexual attention from Ciel. Whether the duke planned on having one whore or many, the very thought of sharing the same closeness was absolutely _repugnant._

_Besides, _Ciel thought, staring at the ground in deep concentration and letting his mind wander to the peasant that had been plaguing his thoughts for the past three days. _No matter what the Duke of Brittany does, he'll never have those eyes._

* * *

"And I don't know what to do, y'know? Like she's good lookin' and all, but I told her, 'if you plan on messin' around with other men, then this just won't work.' I think she took the bait, though. She told me to meet her by the well tonight so that has to mean something, right? Right? Aye, Sebastian, you hear me?"

Sebastian blinked twice before he shook his head, clearing his congested mind. "I'm sorry, who messed around with men in a well?"

Bard tsked. "You're still thinking about what happened with that noble, aren't you?"

A tiny blush rose in Sebastian's cheeks and he shook his head once more, this time in denial. "No, I wasn't. I just misunderstood what you said."

"Sebastian, get over it," Bard said, slapping his friend's shoulder lightly. "It's not like you're getting the guillotine."

"It's not that," Sebastian argued, running his fingers through his disheveled bangs. "There was something about him..."

"About who? The _fils a puitan _that was close to cutting your throat?"

"No, not him. The one that got covered in my experiment," Sebastian answered grimly.

"Oh, you mean the tinier one with the oddly colored hair? What about him?"

"Did you hear what the noir-haired gentleman said? He called the tinier boy his fiancé."

"I've heard of that before."

Sebastian's eyebrows raised. "You have?"

Bard nodded. "Yeah. My mum once told me a story about noble boys who seemed more feminine than masculine, so they were forced to marry another male noble. I always thought she was foolin' me, but I guess she really was telling the truth."

Sebastian frowned. His mother raised him to be faithful to God and Sebastian complied. Even after his mother's death when he was still a young boy, Sebastian continued to go to the center of the slums every _Dimanche _and listen to the teachings of Father Tanaka, who would certainly be against males marrying other males, regardless of their traits.

"I must discuss this with Father Tanaka," Sebastian decided aloud, dusting off his trousers and adjusting his suspenders.

"What good will that do?" Bard asked. "Why does this noble matter, anyway? They're all fustilarians."

"No," Sebastian said quietly. "Not this one."

* * *

_"Je voit l'eau."_

Hannah glanced around and pointed. _"La fontaine?"_

Ciel nodded. _"Oui."_

_"Oui..." _Hannah began, taking a quick look at her surroundings. _"Je voit vert."_

Ciel bit his lip and gazed around. _"Vert?"_

_"Oui."_

_"Terre?" _Ciel guessed, but Hannah shook her head.

_"Non, mais il est par terre."_

Ciel took a few more glances around the garden before he sighed in defeat. _"Je ne sais pas."_

Hannah smiled and leaned closer to the boy, pointing her finger and gesturing for his eyes to look in the direction. _"Il est un arbre."_

Ciel frowned slightly and he glanced at the maid, his blue eyes shining in their caliginous demeanor. "Hannah, I'd like to ask you something."

Hannah's smile slowly faded until it was scantily palpable. "What is it, Ciel?"

"Do you remember that story you told me when I was younger?"

"I told you many stories while you were young; I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

"The one about a little king named after me," Ciel described quietly. "Where I could only recognize one person based on his eyes."

"I do remember that one," Hannah verified. "You seemed to contemplate that story quite often."

"But was it really a story? Was that purely a whimsical fairytale you created within moments?"

"If I may answer your inquiry with another question, what is the purpose of you asking me this?"

Ciel's eyes shifted to the ground. "There is no purpose. I was only curious."

"Ciel," Hannah said in stern tone, and the boy sighed once more in capitulation.

"I met someone."

Hannah blinked."I beg your pardon, Lord?"

Ciel ground his teeth together as he forced himself to repeat his confession. "I met someone."

The maid was silent for a few seconds before she gave a light chuckle."You'll meet plenty of people in your lifetime, Ciel. It's nothing to fret over."

"You're not comprehending, Hannah!" Ciel snapped.

The woman slightly recoiled from the small outburst and she swallowed. "What am I not understanding, Ciel?"

"I didn't mean to bite," Ciel apologised quickly. "I met someone - a man - and I felt something. I feel as though he had those eyes you once told me about."

_"Mon dieu, _Ciel!" Hannah exclaimed before she lowered her voice to a whisper. "You are _engaged."_

"You detest him as much as I do, Hannah! You're the one that said I didn't deserve this life!"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean you should run around looking for other men!" Hannah argued in her raspy whisper. "Besides, who could you have possibly met?"

Ciel gulped nervously. "D-do you remember that evening I came home smothered in that peculiar muck? A-and Marquise almost had a fit over it?"

"You told us a peasant had accidentally lost control of the foam," Hannah pointed out, and Ciel bit his lip as she slowly understood the hidden meaning.

"No," she breathed in disbelief. "No, Ciel, you don't actually think that a _peasant_ had those eyes for you?"

"You were a peasant once," Ciel stated firmly. "You used to wear rags and tatters. Your hair was knotted and fried, your innocent eyes filled with the longing of a better life, isn't that right, Hannah?"

The maid nodded, her blue irises sparkling with fresh tears. "Yes, that is correct, Lord."

"You were _pitiful!" _Ciel spat harshly, the remark causing Hannah to shed a solid tear. "But," he began, his voice softer. "My father still took a liking to you. Even though you had knotted hair and soiled clothes with pleading eyes and a history of poverty, he became attached from the moment he saw you. That is why I no longer underestimate the value of anyone, whether they be rich or poor."

Hannah sobbed quietly and blotted her cheeks before speaking. "You're certainly much more accepting than I am, Lord Phantomhive. I suppose that is why you're of nobility. I'd like to thank you for being such a kind, generous soul."

Ciel gave Hannah a small smile. "I think of you as my mother, Miss Anafeloz. You practically raised me and you were there more often than my parents. Therefore, I'd like for you to be accepting of my decisions, and I'd like to know that you'll be by my side and aid me if my decisions ever spark consequences."

Hannah beamed and she curtsied in honor. "I consider you my own child, Ciel. And I promise whatever you choose, I will be there for you forever."

* * *

Father Tanaka - who should contrarily be referred to simply as "Tanaka" - was certainly _not _a member of the clergy, and he wasn't a member of the church at all.

Only the nobles obtained the right to attend mass, and a peasant wouldn't be allowed to simply pray in front of a church, let alone inside one. That is why Tanaka, an elderly peasant who had spent his entire life wishing to pray in the presence of a clergyman, decided that even the third estate deserved to have some sort of mass.

So Tanaka took his Bible, and he began preaching in the center of the slums, gaining popularity and admirance almost immediately. He then soon acquired the name "Father" Tanaka, which most peasants referred to him now that they had a religious leader in their lives.

Sebastian had listened to Father Tanaka every Sunday for years now, but he never had spoken to the man. And presently, as Sebastian approached the religious leader, he was honored, yet somewhat nervous while he pondered the response he might receive after confessing his slight interest in a noble.

"Father," Sebastian said respectfully, kneeling on one knee and bowing his head.

The old man turned around to acknowledge him and he smiled down at the lad. "You look familiar, son."

Sebastian raised his head and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I have attended every one of your public preachings since I was a young boy."

"Oh you have, have you? What is your name? And do please rise from your knees; I'm no one special."

"You are special in my eyes, Father Tanaka," Sebastian stated as he stood to his feet. "My name is Sebastian Michaelis. I am here to ask you about the nobles."

Tanaka frowned and he narrowed his eyes. "The nobles? Why would you wonder about such conceited filth?"

"My friend has told me something rather odd about their customs, and I'd like you to confirm the information."

"Go on."

Sebastian licked his lips uneasily. "Is it true that when a noble man has characteristics of a woman he is forced to marry another man?"

"That is true."

"And the clergy allows this?"

"They do."

"Isn't that wrong?" Sebastian exclaimed. "The clergy is supposed to be the savior of all and the teachers for God, yet they permit homosexuality as if it were accepted?"

"This world is full of complications, Sebastian," Father Tanaka said grimly. "It is not a sin for the nobles to marry the same sex, but being a peasant is a sin itself, or so they say. No matter who is preaching nor what they preach, religion is an unclear thing nowadays."

Sebastian frowned and he silently knelt on the ground once more. Tanaka glanced at him in question and Sebastian bowed his head again, too ashamed to show his eyes.

"Forgive me, Father."

Tanaka raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, boy?"

"I have soiled a noble's clothing and upset his fiancé, and yes, that noble was a _he. _He's a tiny boy with fragile features, eyes that glow as luminescent as the moon and a smile that could outshine the sun. His hair has a thorough gleam, as if someone spent hours painting it with gloss. When I first saw him I could not speak, for there were no words to describe what I felt at that exact moment."

Sebastian stood from his knees and Tanaka's eyes widened, unsure of what he was about to say next.

"And all these words I used to describe him, Father, are full of pure admiration," Sebastian continued. "I fear I may have feelings for him - a noble - of the same sex, which you believe is wrong. So I ask for your forgiveness, Father, for I am sinning, and I'm not sorry for it."

* * *

"My lord," Hannah spoke softly as she opened the door. "You are expected in the dining room in twenty minutes."

Ciel continued to stare solemnly out the window, viewing the garden with his melancholy eyes. "Thank you, Hannah."

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" The maid inquired, entering the room and closing the door behind her. "You've been at your window for quite a long time now."

"Life isn't a fairytale, Hannah, and I'm definitely not an eager child that's willing to wish for one. But if I could wish for anything, I'd wish for another life. It wouldn't be a fairytale, but it'd be something, right?"

The concerned maid strode over to Ciel's side and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Nothing comes out of wishing in life, Dear. If you truly want a different life, you must seize the chance to run. That chance is still yours for the taking."

Ciel blinked and turned his head to look into Hannah's eyes. "It is?"

Hannah gave him a tiny smirk. "If you want to see him, there's still time before dinner."

Ciel's mouth opened in a small 'o' and his maid winked.

"I will go fetch your coat, Lord."

* * *

Sebastian kept his face blank as he took the bunch of apples in his hand and slowly piled them into the wooden crate, arranging them neatly in the box. Luckily, Mr. Midford hadn't noticed his absence while he had been out visiting Father Tanaka, and he only had a few hours left before he could leave the market and trek home to his bed of straw that would provide him with a good night's sleep.

Dusk was apparent and soon the sun would be setting, requiring Sebastian to walk home in the dark like he had for years. When he was a child, he hated walking home alone in the dark, but now he realized that the true monsters come out not only during the night but during the day, as well.

A cool breeze whistled through the air and Sebastian shivered, his thin white shirt hardly keeping him warm. Nights had been growing colder and even if Sebastian stayed in motion he still seemed to get chilled to the bone.

And maybe the cold wasn't the entire reason why Sebastian was on edge. Ever since he had come in contact with that noble, his whole world seemed to flip upside down. He couldn't think straight, work efficiently, and whenever Bard would go off about some girl that had denied him, Sebastian's mind would float back to the young magnate.

"Excuse me."

"I'm afraid we'll be closing soon," Sebastian informed, not bothering to look up from the apples he balanced in his arms.

"That's a shame. Perhaps you could look up at me?"

"I'm working," Sebastian said snippily.

"Ah, so this is what you do when you're not making exploding foam."

Sebastian froze and he leisurely lifted his head, his eyes shifting to the familiar boy.

The noble cracked a grin and he tipped his top hat in a greeting. "Bonjour."

* * *

**And so they meet again!**

**I had someone ask me a while back if I really spoke French or if I used a translator, and I can assure you that I DO speak French. So I decided to add a few simple sentences in this chapter, not too complex where it frustrates you but just enough to add some pizzazz to the story.**

**Déchets - Waste/Rubbish**

**Dimanche - Sunday**

**Fils a puitan - Son of a prostitute (xD)**

_**Hannah and Ciel's conversation (pretty much a game of I-spy):**_

**Je voit l'eau - I see water**

**La fontaine? - The fountain?**

**Oui - Yes**

**Oui... Je voit vert - Yes... I see green**

**Vert? - Green?**

**Oui - Yes**

**Terre? - Land/Earth?**

**Non, mais il est par terre - No, but it is on the ground**

**Je ne sais pas - I don't know**

**Il est un arbre - It is a tree**

**Mon dieu - My god**


End file.
